


Itching for the Holidays

by Biekewieke



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas at Hogwarts, F/M, Fluff, I'm shite at this tagging-thing, Potions, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Revenge, Secret Santa, Tags Are Hard, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Unresolved Emotional Tension, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Unresolved Tension, dramione - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-13 06:40:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28524120
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Biekewieke/pseuds/Biekewieke
Summary: Hermione is fed up with Malfoy's bullying after he's taken it one step too far...Aided by the infamous Weasley twins, she's found thé perfect way to get back at him.Soon he'll understand that messing with a muggleborn witch is not the brightest thing to do.>
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 6
Kudos: 75





	Itching for the Holidays

**Author's Note:**

> Written as a result of falling in love with this fantastic moodboard by the talented Mimi Marinova that she very graciously allowed me to tweak slightly, and the brilliant remark by Theresa Greenwell that made me determined to write it! 
> 
> Lots of love for my sweet Noppoh for pitching me down the fandom-rabbit hole.  
> I owe you bigtime, bolleke! I'll never not acknowlegde you. 
> 
> And so much love for the lovely namesonboats for being a fantastic beta and being so supportive and gentle and basically everything and more you would ask from a beta.  
> You are brilliant, my darling, and I am lucky for having found you!

Ugh, the pompous bastard! 

Hermione seethed. 

It was always the same with that blonde blood supremacist. Every day she told herself that she wouldn’t let him goad her, and every single bloody day, the arse would find a way to get beneath her skin.

Today, he set off a huge amount of fresh snow off of the awning she was reading under!

Within seconds, the melting snow had gotten everywhere; inside her clothes, ruining the book. The moisture turned her barely managed hair into a frizzy, bushy mess of curls.

She knew it was him.

The sound of his melodious laughter rang in the air while he twirled his wand lazily. 

"You really shouldn’t read outside in this weather, Granger."

Trying to maintain as much dignity as she could muster, she simply walked away without looking back, ignoring his taunt and his laughter.

Marching away from the prat, she pulled out her wand and muttered the Aguamenti-spell under her breath, thus successfully drying herself as best as she could.

When she was far enough from the git, she stifled a scream of frustration and tried to calm herself. 

“Well, well, what’s got you in such a titter?” George’s jolly lilt sounded behind her.

“Yeah, you look like you’ve had a run in with the whomping willow;” Fred’s voice chimed in for good measure. 

She turned around and faced the ginger twins. Irritation still tinted her cheeks a deep crimson, her eyes sparkled with deeply rooted indignation. 

Hermione huffed, a stray curl bouncing at the rush of air that left her mouth, along with a single word. 

“Malfoy.” 

The Weasley twins shared a look and grinned widely. 

“Oh, Hermione…” George started. 

“Why do you let that git ruin your day like that?”

“I honestly don’t know,” she muttered miserably. “I just hate him, and he hates me, and he seems adamant to make my life hell.”

Fred crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Maybe you just need to get back at him.” 

“Maybe, what you need, is a partner in crime who is an expert in thinking outside the box,” George added with a sly smirk. 

Their eyes lit up with pure mischief. 

“Is that so?” Hermione mimicked their stance. “And uhm… You wouldn’t happen to know the perfect candidates, now would you?” She lifted a single brow. 

The twins glanced at each other and made a hand gesture that swept over them. 

“We’ll find a way to get back at him, Hermione.” George said with a nod. 

Fred clasped her shoulder.

“And we’ll make sure it won’t trace back to you unless you want it to.” 

“You know.” Hermione tapped her index finger on her chin. “I’m starting to think you’re absolutely right. We’ll discuss it later tonight in the common room?” 

The boys gave her another one of their trademark smiles, infectious as ever.

“Later, Hermione,” they said in unison. 

“Later Fred, later George.” 

She stared after them as they sauntered further down the corridor, a lingering smile clinging to her lips. 

She’d show that little prat that it was a bad idea to meddle with a muggleborn witch…

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Christmas was just around the corner. 

The entire school buzzed with the excitement that always accompanied this time of year. Everyone was owling their relatives, and trips to Hogsmeade were organized more often to allow the students the opportunity to get Christmas gifts for family and friends alike. 

This year was different. Dumbledore had come up with a new idea. 

Hogwarts would be hosting a Secret Santa event. 

No one knew exactly how the headmaster had come up with the novel thought, since it was primarily a muggle concept.

No one, except for Hermione and Harry, that is. 

Hermione had actually thought of the idea after something the Weasley twins said. They suggested she send Malfoy an anonymous gift, and make sure it was hexed or something along those lines. 

Not even Ron was aware that Hermione was behind the whole concept. 

She’d talked about it with Harry, how it would be nice to add a little extra cheer to the season, and possibly create a greater sense of unity among the different houses. Harry agreed and together they concocted a plan for Harry to approach Dumbledore and suggest the gift exchange in such a way that the old headmaster would believe it was his idea. 

The plan worked brilliantly, although Hermione still wasn’t completely convinced that Dumbledore was so gullible. The old man was smart and cunning, and he probably had something of his own to gain by the exchange. 

That was how it came to be that every sixth and seventh year student had to put his or her name into a goblet. 

Dumbledore explained the concept in great detail, as was his usual method of communicating rules.

Everyone was supposed to put their name in the goblet and a spell would make the goblet choose the perfect recipient for each student. They would then have to come up with a gift for that student. It was not allowed to swap names or to tell another student who their recipient was. If they did not acquire a gift for their recipient willingly, a personal item of the student would be magically confiscated to be presented to the recipient. 

The list of rules and regulations regarding this new event made a lot of students frown. Both excited and agitated whispers soon filled the Great Hall and Dumbledore had to call out for silence. 

One by one, students were called forward to put their name into the goblet. Some went eagerly, others seemed to be filled with dread at the prospect. Hermione watched with carefully disguised glee how a reluctant Draco Malfoy put his name into the goblet with a discontented sneer. 

He had been gloomy since coming back this year. He looked pale and tired, and despite her better judgement, she always found herself wondering about his health. 

However, that did not quell her desire to get back at the arrogant arse. 

Dumbledore murmured a spell that would pair giftor and giftee. As soon as the words were spoken, Hermione muttered her own carefully constructed spell under her breath. The spell that would ensure her to be the one who would be gifting Malfoy his present. 

No sooner had the words left her mouth than the goblet started sputtering tiny golden sparks. The pieces of parchment were lifted from the goblet in an upwards whirlwind, each scrap shimmering brightly. A small explosion sounded, and a million tiny little stars erupted from the whirlwind as it suddenly stilled its motion and the parchments all fell into the goblet again. 

Every student was called forward once again. 

They held their hand over the goblet and a scrap appeared in their hand with the name of their giftee. 

Reactions were hilarious to behold. Some students were ecstatic about their recipient. Others were clearly not. Hermione tried to conceal her mirth when it was her turn. As she stood next to the goblet and extended her hand, she already knew what the result would be. 

Sure enough, the piece of parchment that flew into her outstretched hand did exactly what she had conjured it to do. In a beautiful, swirly font, the name Draco Malfoy was written in gold. 

A secret smile curved her lips and she met Fred and George’s eyes across the expanse of the Great Hall. 

_Time to get the rest of the plan into motion…_

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Hermione, Harry, Ron and Ginny jumped on the first opportunity to go to Hogsmeade. Extra trips had been arranged because of the Secret Santa gift exchange.

They talked and laughed and had a wonderful time shopping for their Secret Santa. 

Harry got his recipient a pair of funny socks with antlers. Ron had the hardest time finding a suitable gift for his giftee. He ended up buying a gift basket with scented bath salts, lotions and soaps, and looking miserable about it every step of the way. 

Ginny had no issue whatsoever with picking out a gift. She walked around with purpose and bought a quidditch gift box, one filled to the brim with merchandise for the Chudley Cannons. 

Whoever her recipient was, he or she was obviously a big fan… 

Hermione only knew one thing. 

She wanted an article of clothing. And it had to be in Gryffindor red. 

As she walked into Gladrags Wizardwear, she couldn’t hide the devious smile she’d been harbouring for days now. 

The mere thought of finally getting back at Malfoy made her positively giddy. 

As she was browsing through various articles of clothing with her hand hovering over a pretty jumper, the bell over the door chimed. Ginny let out a sound of disgust, making Hermione glance up at her with a frown. She followed Ginny’s gaze and the sight that greeted her made her stomach somersault. 

Draco Malfoy sauntered in with his usual arrogant strut, Blaise Zabini and Theo Nott on his heels. 

When he noticed Hermione and Ginny, his trademark smirk spread across his face. 

“Well, well,” he said haughtily, “I knew my day was going too well.” 

“Shove off, Malfoy.” 

He lifted a brow at Ginny’s no-nonsense reply. 

“Easy there, Weaslette.” Draco’s lips curved into a slow grin. “Didn’t your mummy teach you any manners? I would have imagined her to at least _try_ with a daughter. The males in your family are beyond help…”

“At least I know what manners are. I’m merely very picky as to who deserves them.”

Draco scoffed, rolling his eyes as if her comeback was less than amusing. 

His gaze landed on Hermione with a wicked glint. Pure mischief shone in those silver depths and Hermione swore she could feel a shiver run up and down her spine in something that felt astonishingly similar to anticipation. 

“What’s the matter, Granger? I’ve never seen you so quiet. Has that ugly ginger cat of yours finally caught your tongue?” 

Hermione raised a single brow. 

“Oh, there’s nothing wrong with my tongue, Malfoy. I simply don't ’t deem you worthy of my attention.” 

If Hermione hadn’t been watching the blond prat as intensely as she was, she would have missed the flicker of emotion in his mercurial gaze. 

_Was that pride? Quickly followed by… hurt?_

She didn’t have the time to study it, as fleeting as it was. Malfoy was back to smirking in his usual arrogant fashion. 

“You think you’re above me? A muggle like you?” 

Hermione gave him a saccharine smile. 

“You know, Malfoy, for someone who claims he’s so elevated in status, you really are just a very common prick.” 

She batted her lashes for good measure and she could hear Ginny snicker beside her, trying to keep her laughter at bay. 

Malfoy took a few steps towards her, probably in some attempt at intimidating her. He stopped when there were barely ten inches separating them. Ginny was bristling, ready to spring into action at the drop of a hat. So were Theo and Blaise. 

But nothing happened. 

Draco and Hermione simply stared at each other. Time seemed to stand still and if it didn’t feel like a duel, Hermione would have frowned at the sense of excitement that coursed through her veins as her gaze was locked with the Slytherin Prince. 

He broke the stare first, by leaning forward and whispering in her ear. 

“I’ll just bet you want to know all about my prick, Granger.” 

His voice was low and slightly hoarse and oh so sexy… 

It made Hermione step back and glare at him, shaken to her core. 

Those silver eyes of his were glittering with mirth, a dare evident. 

Hermione continued to stare up at him, anger and indignation tinting her cheeks a vibrant red. 

“Maybe you should get the green one instead. I don’t think red really is your color.”

Malfoy glanced down at her, running his eyes up and down her form, his features giving nothing away. He straightened and squared his shoulders, and with another one of his trademark smirk tossed her a taunt in parting. 

“Enjoy your shopping… _ladies_.” His mocking voice and the boys’s laughter rang through the store, and seemed to linger long after they’d left. 

Hermione was left staring after him, stewing. 

Ginny let out a low whistle when the door closed with the ring of the bell. 

“Wow... “ she muttered, “I don’t know what’s gotten into Malfoy, but he's in an awfully good mood today.”

Hermione snorted in response. 

“Every day is a good day if he can taunt the mudblood, Ginny.”

The redhead turned towards her friend and gave her a mysterious grin. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t exactly say that, Hermione. This seemed to be different. It was almost as if…” 

“As if what?” Hermione interrupted with a deep sigh. 

Ginny cocked a brow and crossed her arms in front of her chest. 

“Well, it was almost as if he was flirting with you, ‘Mione.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. 

“Have you gone mental, Ginevra Molly Weasley?” she all but shrieked. 

“I’m just saying…” 

“You’re just saying what? Honestly, Ginny, the man’s sole purpose is to make my life miserable. He hates me even more than I hate him. Picking on me is probably the highlight of his day. That’s the only thing going on. Flirting with me, my arse.”

Ginny’s eyebrows shot up into her hairline. Hermione’s reaction was surprising to say the least. 

“Now, can we please pretend the irritating git was never in this shop? I’d like to spend the rest of the day enjoying myself, thank you very much.”

“Alright, alright, don’t get your knickers in a twist, Miss Granger.” Ginny’s voice was laced with humor. “I’ll gladly pretend the wanker was never here.” 

“Oh Ginny!” Hermione cried out and ribbed her friend, laughing at her crass expression. 

Hermione ended up buying the red woolen jumper she’d been holding while having her altercation with Malfoy. 

It really was a beautiful jumper. A pretty crimson, intricate cable knit, soft and warm and just the thing to have on hand on a cold wintery day. 

She was also very sure that Malfoy would absolutely loathe it. 

The thought brought a smile to her face. 

It was perfect for what she had in mind. 

After she had made her purchase, she and Ginny joined Ron and Harry back at the Three Broomsticks for drinks before they headed back to Hogwarts. 

Her friends were talking about their plans for the holidays as Hermione was content just to sit close to the fire and sip her butterbeer in peace, listening to their excited gibberish. 

However, as she sat there staring into the flames, she felt as if someone was staring at her. As inauspiciously as she could, Hermione glanced around and her heart leapt in her chest as her eyes connected with the one who was doing the staring. 

_Malfoy._

He was watching her intently with an unreadable expression on his face as he sat alone at a table on the far end of the tavern. Hermione’s lips parted in surprise, a frown creasing her brow as she returned his stare calmly. 

Ginny was partially right, she thought to herself. Malfoy was in some kind of mood today. She averted her eyes when Ron addressed her about homework. 

After a bit of good natured teasing, Hermione glanced back at her nemesis, but he’d disappeared into thin air. 

She ignored the tiny sliver of disappointment that flickered through her and joined her friends as they headed back to Hogwarts. 

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Several days passed by since their trip to Hogsmeade and Hermione was left feeling disconcerted. 

Malfoy had been uncharacteristically quiet. 

He hadn’t taunted her with a single remark about her hair, or her being a know-it-all. 

Hermione thought it quite ironic that she was anxious about something she had wanted for so long. But now his silence worried her. 

Every now and then, she’d glance up and catch him staring at her with an indecipherable look on his face. A sense of foreboding washed over her every time. 

He was up to something, she was sure of it. 

Tonight was the night of the Secret Santa gift exchange, and she couldn’t afford to lose so much precious time thinking about the prat. 

She needed to get on with her plan. 

Fred and George were lounging in the common room, waiting for her to show up. She walked up to them, grinning. 

“Why do you two look like you’re up to something?” she asked with a smile that was wide enough to split her face. 

“Well, because we usually are.” Fred’s matter-of-fact answer had the three of them laughing. 

“And as luck would have it, we are up to something. But don’t you worry your pretty little head, dear. You’ll find out soon enough,” George said as he gave her an exaggerated wink. 

Hermione gave him an amused sigh and shook her head. 

“Now, Milady,” Fred continued in his most contrite voice, “much to our dismay, we must bid you adieu…” He took hold of her hand and kissed it, invisibly handing her a tiny packet. 

“Indeed, though it brings us great sorrow.” George mimicked his brother’s actions and slipped her another packet. 

“Please forgive us, we have to get going now. Otherwise, things might get a little… mixed up.” 

The twins gave her a mischievous grin and took off to Merlin knew where. Hermione quickly went up to her room to finish her gift. 

With the red jumper spread inside out on the floor, she pulled the two packets from her pocket and used a tiny bowl to mix the contents. 

Pulling out her wand, Hermione muttered a spell over the powder. It glowed and became pearlescent before it became completely ordinary again. 

Very meticulously, Hermione spread out the powder over the jumper, coating both the front and the back with gloved hands. She worked the powder well into the fibers, then took it to the window and shook out the excess. The packets she had received from the twins contained two ingredients that - when mixed - would morph into flea powder. Her spell would make sure that the itching wouldn’t start until Hermione activated it. 

When she was done with that task, she started on the next. An intricate gesture with her wand accompanied another spell. The second spell would make certain Draco would wear the jumper. In fact, the spell would make the jumper jump up from the wrapping paper and wrestle itself around Draco’s lithe form. He’d be unable to take it off for at least four hours. Or until she’d undo the spell. Which was highly unlikely. An almost evil smirk graced her lips. 

Malfoy wouldn’t know what hit him. 

There was only one more thing to do: wrap her gift. 

She folded the red jumper and ensconced it in beautiful green wrapping paper, topping it off with a pretty red and gold bow. Hermione giggled. 

_House unity indeed…_

She put on a pretty dress for the feast that would be held for the occasion. Her peace was short lived; Ginny entered the room and let out a low whistle. 

“Wow, ‘Mione,” she said with a grin,”if I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to catch a certain wizard’s eye.”

Hermione giggled as she caught Ginny’s gaze. 

“Perhaps that’s exactly what I’m doing.” 

Ginny’s smile grew lewd. 

“In that dress? I’m sure you will.” 

Hermione glanced down and felt doubt course through her at the sight of the green velvet. The sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder design hinted at cleavage that wasn't really there. The color made her skin look golden, and the cut made her waist look absolutely tiny. The full skirt was tea-length, flirting with her calves and showing off her shapely ankles. She wore matching pumps and even her clutch matched the outfit, although it also had gold and red embellishments. 

“Do you think it’s too much?” she asked shyly as she fingered the luxurious fabric. 

Ginny let out a hoarse little bark of laughter. 

“Only if you take it off in front of him.” 

The two young women laughed heartily. 

“Come on, Hermione,” Ginny said softly,”I’ll do your hair.”

By the time Ginny was done, it wasn’t just Hermione’s hair that had received the redhead’s attention. She’d also applied a glo-up charm that made Hermione’s face radiate. Neutral earth tones with a dash of green deepened the amber in her eyes, a few layers of mascara and subtle eyeliner made them look ridiculously large and beautiful without being too much. Her natural golden skin seemed to glow from the inside, the contouring done with astonishing precision and made her face appear sculpted by angels. Her lips had been given a deep ruby red gloss, almost sparkling and defining them to perfection. 

Her bushy hair had been tamed, thanks to the help of a more than generous amount of Sleakeazy. Ginny had pulled it up into an elegant french twist, a few curly tendrils left to frame her face. To top it all off, she had added long, golden and ruby and emerald earrings, and a matching necklace that ended just above the edge of her bodice, helping once more with the illusion of a cleavage.

Hermione hardly recognized herself. 

This combination of hair, makeup and clothing surpassed her former appearances, including that of the Yule Ball. 

She felt like a different person. 

Or rather… For the first time in forever… she felt like herself. 

_Perhaps, Ron will notice me now._

“You look amazing, ‘Mione.” Ginny’s voice was soft and slightly breathless. Hermione looked back at Ginny and gave her a wide smile. 

“If you ever wonder about a profession, Ginny, I think you’ve found your calling.” 

Ginny let out a rather unladylike laugh, snort included. 

“Thanks, but no thanks. I’d rather take my chances on Quidditch, thank you very much.”

“You don’t look too shabby yourself, Ginevra,” Hermione said, smiling the entire time. 

Ginny was wearing a rather tight gold and red sequined dress, one shoulder bare, and the hint of an ample bosom visible. Her hair had been swept up on the opposite side, trailing down and teasing the bare shoulder in beautiful waves. A huge gold and emerald hairpin shaped like holly leaves and berries was used to hold it back. She’d gone for a sexy smokey eye look, and her lips were tinted in typical Gryffindor red. 

“We are both women on a mission, Hermione,” Ginny said in a conspiratorial tone. “I am going to make Harry lose his mind, and you…” Ginny’s red lips curved into a sly smile,” are going to drive every single wizard-in-training absolutely crazy. They will vye for your attention and they will fight each other to be near you.”

Hermione laughed heartily at her friend’s words. 

“I don’t know about that, but I have to admit I feel pretty confident right now. I’m sure it’ll change at some point but I’ll enjoy it as long as it lasts. 

Ginny moved her wand and conjured two glasses of fairy wine out of nowhere. She handed one to Hermione and lifted it with obvious intent. 

“I’ll drink to that. Here’s to flaunting our confidence for once!” 

“Hear, hear!” Hermione cheered. 

After the brief toast, the two girls gathered their presents and started down the stairs to the common room. Only Neville was still there, looking as if he’d lost something. When he noticed them from the corner of his eye, he straightened and stared at them as if he’d swallowed his own wand. His mouth formed a big ‘O’ and his eyes all but bugged out of their sockets. 

“Are you alright, Neville?” Hermione asked, worried about the young wizard. 

“Hermione!” His voice sounded a little hoarse. “You look... “ He shook his head as if lost for words. “I don’t know what to say. You look stunning.” Neville’s gentle blue eyes then roamed over Ginny’s figure and he shook his head again. “And you, Ginny, you are just as beautiful.”

Was that her imagination, or was Neville slightly emotional? 

“Are you sure you're alright, Neville?” Hermione said again, walking up to him and touching his arm. 

He scratched the back of his head self-consciously and answered sheepishly. 

“Yeah, I’m okay.” He lowered his eyes and took a deep breath. “I just can’t remember where I put my gift.” 

Hermione smiled at him. 

“Then why don’t you simply go to the Great Hall with us, and Accio your gift to the pile?” 

Neville looked down at her with a look that could only be described as ‘mind blown’. 

“No wonder you’re called the brightest witch of our time, Hermione!” he let out, admiration clear in his tone. Hermione and Ginny shared a look and laughed. 

“Why, thank you Neville. You’re very kind.” 

“Hey Neville,” Ginny said as she walked up to his other side,”would you mind doing us girls a favor?” 

Neville’s brow furrowed. 

“Of course, Ginny.” 

The redhead glanced over at Hermione and gave a small wink. 

“Would you mind escorting us to the Great Hall? I don’t like to walk in there all alone, and I’m sure Hermione doesn’t either. And if we walk in on your arm, with you looking so very dashing in your dress robes…” She let her voice trail off and gave Neville a slow smile. “We’d be the envy of every witch in the room.”

Neville’s face turned bright red. 

“I’d be honored.” 

The words were spoken softly, and there was no mistaking the pride and glee in his posture as he held out both his arms. He seemed to grow even taller as both Gryffindor witches latched on. The three of them left the common room in companionable silence. 

**oOoOoOoOoOo**

Neville walked into the great Hall with Ginny and Hermione on his arms, and halted in the doorway. He lifted his chin and stood tall and proud, no doubt counting his lucky stars. 

Some of the chatter stilled as a multitude of students noticed them standing there. 

Ginny glanced at Hermione, who stood frozen on the spot. She hadn’t expected so many eyes on her, that much was evident. 

Hermione was nearing a panic attack. 

She remained in the doorway of the Great Hall, and everyone seemed to be staring at them. Wasn’t this secretly what she’d hoped for? Then why for Merlin’s sake, was she feeling so close to hysteria? 

Hermione glanced around and noticed Ron and Harry sitting in their usual spot at the Gryffindor table. They looked very handsome in their dress robes, Ron wearing regular dress robes instead of the calamity he’d worn at the Yule Ball. 

Both boys were looking at her and Ginny as if they’d never seen them before. She felt her nerves calm as Harry gave her a little nod. She smiled broadly and heard Neville mutter softly. 

“Shall we, ladies?” 

Hermione glanced up at Neville, and he was positively beaming. 

“Of course.” 

“Yes, please.” 

The three of them walked over to the giant Christmas tree at the back of the room, putting their gifts underneath it’s wide branches. Neville performed a flawless Accio, and the gift he’d been so worried about, appeared among the pile. 

Hermione pulled hers from her clutch and with a simple Engorgio, it regained its regular size. 

That devious grin toyed with her lips once more. 

_‘This is going to be so much fun’_ , she thought slyly. 

After the threesome had put their gifts under the tree, they headed over to the Gryffindor seats. 

The shy boy all but strutted over to their table, obviously immensely pleased that he was walking into the Christmas Celebration with the two prettiest witches on his arm. The envy of every wizard in the room seemed to make his confidence spike and he obviously loved the sentiment.

Right before they reached their table, he whispered to the girls. 

“Thank you, girls. This is the best feeling in the world.” 

Hermione couldn’t help herself. She let out a giggle and reached up to peck his cheek, leaving a bright red pair of lips on his skin. 

Ginny also pulled him down and planted her lips on his cheek, painting a pair of lips right at the corner of his own. 

Poor Neville became so flustered, Hermione feared he would faint, but he pulled it together and helped the girls settle into their seat before taking his own. 

Chatter resumed and everyone became quite excited about the evening. 

At seven o’clock sharp, Dumbledore started his speech with a warm welcome and sincere wishes for his students. His booming voice soon sounded across the Great Hall. 

“Let the Feast commence.” 

His words were still ringing through the room, bouncing off the walls, when the most delicious foods appeared on the tables. Joyous conversations flowed, laughter rang through the air and the excitement about the gift exchange filled the atmosphere. 

Speculations about the Secret Santa’s were rampant, and of course Fred and George were in the middle of it all, taking bets and making the most of the situation. 

Hermione felt as if a thousand eyes were staring at her all during dinner. One time when she glanced up, her gaze met with Malfoy’s across the dining room. His expression was unreadable, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It wasn’t the same vibe he usually bestowed upon her. This felt odd, but rather on the pleasant side. 

Hermione’s eyes remained locked with his for a long moment, neither of them looking away. A shiver of something ran down her spine, but this too was not entirely unwelcome. 

_Odd…_

The moment passed when Ginny replied to something stupid Ron had said and the entire table started laughing. Hermione joined in, glad for the distraction from that silver gaze across the hall. 

When everyone had had their fill of the delicacies, the sound of tapping drew the attention of each and every student. 

Once again, Dumbledore’s voice boomed. He commanded the attention of the crowd, announcing the start of the gift exchange. He explained the whole concept once more, just in case anyone had missed it. He then cast a spell and every single gift floated through the air and found its designated recipient. 

Everyone tore into their gifts as if it were truly Christmas Day.

Ron let out a big whoop when he opened his. Ginny let out a surprised little gasp, Harry started laughing uncontrollably. He’d gotten several items that made absolutely no sense, including a muggle can opener, indicating that his Secret Santa hadn’t the foggiest what to get The Boy Who Lived. 

Hermione glanced down at her gift and felt a pang of surprise go through her. 

Her Secret Santa was obviously a Slytherin. The gift was wrapped in their typical colors of green and silver, and whoever he or she was, it was quite clear that they were on the wealthy side. The gift was wrapped in such a professional and beautiful way that there was no mistaking that fact. The quality of the paper, the types of ribbons used… 

She glanced up at Malfoy to see if he had already opened his, but he was laughing with his mates over their gifts. 

Hermione started unwrapping her gift as slowly as she could to keep up appearances, keeping an eye on the Slytherin table the entire time. 

When Malfoy finally unwrapped his present, Hermione held her breath. 

The moment the blond wizard saw the jumper, his eyebrows shot up and then lowered into a deep scowl. He took it out of the paper and held it up and immediately became the laughingstock of his table. Much to her surprise, his eyes connected with hers instantly. 

_‘He knows’_ she thought. 

But then the oddest thing happened. 

He grinned at her. As if there was some dirty little secret that only they knew. 

The grin quickly faded as her spell took action. With a flourish, the jumper leapt up and wiggled its way onto Malfoy’s lithe frame. 

The commotion managed to draw the attention of a great part of the students present, both at the Slytherin table as the others. The laughter multiplied and Hermione couldn’t suppress her own giggle anymore. 

That silver gaze landed on her again and the message in it was clear. 

_‘Touché.’_

Sending him a triumphant smirk, she diverted her attention back to her own gift, after an impatient Ginny nudged her. 

Being utterly careful with removing the wrapping, her discovery made her gasp. 

Inside the beautiful paper and exquisite ribbons, she found the exact same jumper she had gifted Malfoy, the only difference being the color. Hers was a beautiful and delicate green that made the cable pattern stand out. It accentuated her complexion and brought out the natural highlights in her hair. _“Maybe you should get the green one instead. I don’t think red really is your color.”_

His words ran through her memory and she stilled completely. Her eyes flew up and connected with his again. 

This time, he was the one who wore a triumphant smirk. The smallest inclination of his head and a cocky wink told her all she needed to know and what she already knew. 

Malfoy was her Secret Santa.

Oddly enough, she was moved by the whole thing. He obviously paid great attention to detail. He’d noticed the jumper she’d been contemplating. So far, aside from the color choice, there was nothing to fault him for. Even that was arguable, because he was clearly right about green suiting her better than red. 

Normally, she would be overcome by worry and suspicion at the mere idea of Malfoy spending so much time contemplating things like her preference in jumpers. But in this case, she only felt gratitude. 

Once more her eyes met him and she felt a strange twinge of guilt run through her at the thought that she was going to prank him soon. The memory of wet snow down her robes and her book and numerous taunts rid her of the notion quickly enough. 

She resumed her conversation with her friends and was lost in laughter and banter for another half an hour. 

The Great Hall then transformed at the simple clap of a hand from Dumbledore and McGonagall. The tables shifted towards the sides of the room to create a dance floor. A buffet with refreshments appeared, including a giant punch-fountain. The most delicious finger foods were displayed just so, to appeal to the youngsters the most. 

Music sounded out of nowhere and it only took a few moments for the students to take it all in before they attacked the dance floor with the kind of vigor that was typical for their age. 

After an hour or so, Hermione was feeling too hot.

The many bodies on the dancefloor, combined with the physical exertion of dancing and perhaps a tad too much to drink from the obviously spiked punch made her desperate for some air. Excusing herself from their group, she edged her way towards the doors. 

The hallway was sparsely occupied, thank Merlin! 

Just a few students hiding in corners, snogging as if their life depended on it. With her head buzzing from the alcohol - another contribution from the Weasley twins, no doubt - she couldn’t even find it in her to mind. 

Wrapping the green jumper Malfoy had gifted her around her shoulders, she headed for the atrium. Just as she stepped outside into the gently falling snow, she heard clothes rustling beside her. 

“Seems I was right. Green does suit you better.” 

She would know that voice anywhere. 

_Malfoy._

Hermione whipped her head around in the direction of said voice and found him leaning against a column. 

“Do you like your gift, Granger?” he drawled, tilting his head and narrowing his eyes. A soft smile played at the corners of his mouth. 

Looking back, she would probably blame the alcohol and her inability to process it correctly, but she simply gave him a sly smile and replied with a lilt in her voice. 

“I do, actually. Whoever my Secret Santa is, he or she has impeccable taste in cable knit jumpers.” Mirth sparkled in her eyes. She couldn’t resist poking at him a bit more. “And you? Red seems to look rather fetching on you, too.”

To her surprise, Malfoy chuckled. 

“Hardly. Not my color of choice, by far. Although I must admit, you’ve cast a pretty powerful spell on this thing.” He cocked his head and his hair fell into his eyes, making him roguishly handsome. 

“Tell me, Granger,” he said softly as he pushed away from the column and took a few deliberate steps in her direction, “how long will I be wearing this until it wears off?” 

Inhibitions a lot less restrained, Hermione let out a small laugh and took a step towards him. 

“Not very much longer. An hour or two more, I believe. Why? Is my choice not to your liking?” 

‘ _This is it_ ,’ she thought. ‘ _This is the perfect moment to set the rest of my plan into action.’_

Malfoy’s lips curved into his signature smirk. It was rather infectious, or so it seemed, for Hermione’s eyes twinkled with naughty merriment.

“Is the thread count too low? I’m sure you’re used to nothing less but pure cashmere, so I can only imagine how rough and course it must feel to you. Must be pretty _scratchy_ on your delicate skin.” 

She walked over to the doors that led back into the large hallway and looked back at him, a malicious grin curving her red lips.

The flea powder she’d used was enchanted to work at the mention of the word “scratchy”. So the moment it left her lips, it would gradually start to impart its active components, thus providing the itching sensation.

The usual cocky grin that was plastered on his striking face slowly morphed into a scowl. He casually scratched the back of his neck, trying to act as if everything was alright. 

Hermione knew he must feel as if ants were crawling all over his body. 

“You’re quite right, I’m surely used to much better quality.” His voice had that snobby tone again, so typical for thé Draco Malfoy whenever he addressed her. 

Yet his actions told her that her spell was very much working as it ought to. He pushed the sleeves up to his elbows and tried to scratch his forearms without her noticing. 

Hermione really had a hard time reigning in her laughter when she saw him shifting and twitching awkwardly. Her eyes glittered with amusement as his features twisted with annoyance. He was well and truly scratching by now, unable to fight that instinctive need to relieve the itching. 

Feeling giddy with both alcohol and the success of pulling off her prank, she tucked a curl behind her ear and spoke to him with a huge smile she couldn’t fight. 

“What’s the matter, Malfoy? You look very uncomfortable all of a sudden.” She tilted her head and pinned him with a wicked gaze. “You seem to be positively itching for the holidays…”

Her voice trailed off at the end of her sentence, but there must have been something in her tone that gave her away, because his head whipped up. Those silver eyes locked with hers and it became a menacing glare as the facts started to add up in his mind. 

“You little witch!” he spat out. “You hexed me, didn’t you?” He took several steps in her direction but Hermione stood her ground. 

“I have no idea what you are talking about…” 

Her voice dripped with fake innocence, her eyes shone with glee. 

It was all the answer he needed. 

Malfoy crossed the small distance that was still between them and grabbed her wrist and his wand at the same time, pointing the latter at her chest. 

“Admit it,” he ground out through clenched teeth. “Admit that you hexed this jumper.”

Hermione looked up into his angular face and couldn’t help but feel exhilarated at his nearness. His cologne enveloped her, something warm and spicy and exciting. It was oddly familiar, though she couldn’t put her finger on what exactly it was that made it feel that way. 

He tugged at her arm, bringing her even closer, the tip of his wand pressing in right between her breasts. 

“Admit it, Granger, and fix it.” 

“Or what?” she countered, lifting her chin in defiance. 

“Or I will use the Imperius on you.” 

Hermione stared into his mercury gaze, contemplating how serious he was. He must have seen it, because he dipped his head and whispered in a low voice that almost rumbled through her.

“Don’t think I don’t know how. I’ve been well-taught by my father.” 

She believed him. There wasn’t a doubt in her mind that he would use that particular spell on her eagerly. Reluctantly, she gave a sharp nod, indicating her consent. 

Still twitching despite himself, Malfoy nodded in return. 

“Follow me.” 

He then let go of her wrist to wrap his arm around her back. He pressed his wand into her side, hidden by the folds of his robes and her dress. 

To anyone looking on, it would have seemed an almost intimate pose. 

In fact, several students were staring at them, surprised at this sudden “development.” The thought was preposterous, to be sure, but it must seem like they were off to some romantic interlude like many other young witches and wizards that night. 

Hermione frowned as the thought flashed through her muddled brain, the fresh air only making the effects from the alcohol stronger instead of clearing them. 

Malfoy nudged her into motion and soon she found herself being maneuvered through the hallway and up the moving stairs, several eyes following their every move. No doubt the gossip mill would be in full motion by the time she hit the top step of the stairs. 

“Where are you taking me?” Hermione asked softly, her voice barely above a whisper. 

“You’ll see.” 

She glanced back and her gaze collided with a stunned Harry, Ginny and Ron. 

Malfoy didn’t even pay anyone any attention, as he was obviously uncomfortable beyond words. He just plowed on as if He-who-must-not-be-named was on his heels. 

Hermione almost felt sorry for him. The longer they walked together, the more frustrated Malfoy seemed to become. By the time she realized where they were headed, he was letting out sounds of desperation. He was almost whimpering and Hermione could only imagine the torture of being so itchy and not being able to scratch himself as he was intent on keeping both his arm and his wand on her. 

They reached the Head Boy bathroom and he pushed her inside without much grace. He closed the door and cast a few charms, effectively locking the door and making sure they would not be heard. 

“Why did you take me here?” 

Hermione hated the sliver of anxiety that sounded through her voice. She wasn’t so much scared as she was oddly excited. Anticipation coursed through her veins, no matter how hard she fought to push it down. 

“Because this is the last place anyone will look for us, obviously.” 

He sounded very matter-of-factly, and Hermione couldn’t fault his reasoning. The idea of the two of them going anywhere together was crazy enough as it was, let alone to this particular destination. 

“Now, undo this spell, Granger,” he bit out, no longer trying to keep from scratching the itch. 

Everything inside her balked at the way he spoke to her. This was exactly the reason why she had hexed him in the first place, wasn’t it? The fact that he looked down his aristocratic nose at her and thought he could order her around as if she were a house-elf. 

“No.” 

Hermione watched as his eyes widened and then narrowed to slits. 

He approached her slowly, every step towards her with deliberation and intent. It would have been quite intimidating, had it not been for his incessant scratching. He was starting to draw blood on his underarm.

“No?” he asked in a low tone, anger radiating off of him. 

She lifted her chin and stared up into his eyes stubbornly. 

“No. I will not. I am fed up with your arrogant attitude and haughty conduct. An enchanted jumper and some flea powder isn’t even such a harsh punishment for all the rotten things you’ve done to me, this month alone! If you want me to undo the spell so you can remove the jumper, you’ll have to ask me. Nicely.”

Surprise shone in his silver gaze and Hermione watched his reaction with morbid fascination. 

His cheeks flushed a gentle red, something she’d not seen from this close. His sensuous mouth parted, pink lips glistening as his tongue darted over them swiftly. His eyes - those enchanting eyes that haunted her in her most secret dreams - shone with something that was reminiscent of desire. 

It had to be part of her imagination, right? After all, there was no way on earth that Draco Malfoy, pureblood wizard, could ever be attracted to a lowly mudblood like herself. 

He all but whimpered right then, and it did things to her that she’d rather not examine too closely. Seeing him squirm made her feel restless and jumpy. 

His next words, however, made everything inside her screech to a halt. 

“Do you want me to beg, Granger?”

His voice was low and rough and so damned sexy that it sent shivers of pleasure down her spine.

“Is that what you want? Is that what you were after?” He tilted his head and looked down at her lips and her cleavage before his gaze met hers again. 

“Some twisted part of you won’t let up until you have me on my knees?”

Hermione’s chest was rising faster by the time he was done talking. There was just something so very sensual about his voice, about his choice of words, that she felt her resistance crumble ever so slightly. 

“And if it is?” 

Her voice sounded breathless and seductive, despite herself. 

Then the thing she least expected happened. 

Malfoy laughed. 

“Oh, Granger…” His voice trailed off and he shook his head. “If anyone could bring me to my knees, it would be you.” 

Her eyes flew up and locked with his. Shock coursed through her at his words, and she frowned, wondering if she had heard him correctly. 

Everything in his demeanor told her that she had. 

“Malfoy, I... “ she started, but he interrupted her. 

“Take this jumper off me, Granger,” he whispered. With a slow grin, he added the one word that would undo her. 

“Please.” 

Hermione’s breath caught and she gasped involuntarily. Her eyes went wide and a tremor started in her core, spreading out slowly. Somehow, she managed to react rather witty, though she couldn’t fathom how. 

“Only because you asked me nicely.” 

Hermione pulled out her wand and muttered the counter-spell, allowing Malfoy to remove the jumper whenever he wanted to. 

When he didn’t move, she frowned. 

“You can take it off now,” she mumbled, confusion lacing her voice. 

His smirk grew wider. 

“But I asked _you_ , didn’t I?” he countered, humor injected in every syllable. “I even said please…” 

Hermione’s eyes all but bugged out of her sockets at his words. 

“You want me”, she pointed at herself, “to take your jumper off?” 

Malfoy took a step forward, closing the distance and leaving only two inches of air between them. He grabbed her hands and placed them at the hem of the jumper. 

“That’s what I said.” 

Hermione looked up into his face and shook her head. 

“Have you lost your mind, Malfoy?” Exasperation lent a sharpness to her voice. “Did you fall off your broom one too many times during Quidditch training or have the fumes from Advanced Potions finally gotten to your brain?” 

For a moment, they did nothing but stare at each other. 

Malfoy was the first to break the impasse. His lips parted in a smile so bright and seductive, it made Hermione weak in the knees. 

“I can assure you that I have not. Although, if anyone ever asks, we could always blame those Weasley wankers and their bright idea to spike the punch.” 

His hands tightened around hers, bunching up the hem and bringing their attention back to the matter at hand. 

“Granger,” he muttered softly, “take pity on me and take off my jumper.”

Hermione swallowed the lump in her throat and closed her eyes. Shaking her head, she wondered what in Sweet Circe’s name was wrong with her. What was making her so compliant to this arrogant prat who was hellbent on ruining her daily life? 

Yet, her own hands acted on their own volition. Slowly, they slid under the jumper and over his chest, lifting the jumper away from his well-built frame. She could feel every ridge of muscle on his torso ripple beneath her fingers, the smooth cotton of his shirt almost as soft as silk. 

She continued to push the jumper up, and over his head and suddenly he stood before her in his dress robes once more. The sight was one for sore eyes. His hair was mussed, his cheeks were still flushed and there was a sparkle in his eyes that she had never seen before. It was intoxicating. 

Before she could say or do anything, Malfoy’s voice sounded in the silence around them. 

“Do you have any idea how lovely you look in green? How long I have wanted to see you in it? It's why i got that jumper." 

He frowned as words kept tumbling from his lips, seemingly against his will. 

“But this dress…” His voice trailed off and he sounded almost wistful. “It exceeds any and every expectation. You seem to be made for this exact shade .Although I prefer your hair down.”

Her gaze locked with his and surprise coursed through her. His hand came up and his fingers caught a stray curl that framed her face. He caressed it almost reverently, his eyes focused on the lock of hair between his digits as if transfixed. 

Hermione’s breath caught in her chest. His confession was unexpected and strangely sincere. It shocked her, and she didn’t quite know how to reply. She blurted out the first thing that came to mind. 

“I thought you hated my hair,” she croaked, stunned to the very core of her being. 

A teasing smile curved his lips. 

“I never said any of the sort. Curls like yours belong wild and free.” His gaze met hers again. “Like the witch herself.” 

She let out a surprised gasp, her face a study of incredulity. 

“What kind of game are you playing, Malfoy?” she demanded, a sharp edge to her voice. 

His nearness was affecting her in ways that made her question her own sanity. 

“Oh, Granger,” he sighed softly. “Must you always be so suspicious? So distrusting?” 

“Of you? Yes.” 

He tsk’ed and shook his head slightly. 

“You should relax a little, Granger. You’re too bloody uptight. You always act so composed. So in control,” he murmured, his fingers ghosting over the shell of her ear. “But you and I both know you long to let go.” 

His thumb ran over her lower lip then, and his eyes were trained on the movement. 

“We’re both very much the same that way. We are more alike than we want to admit.”

“Malfoy,” she whispered with a trembling voice, “you’re drunk.” 

He chuckled and the sound made her core clench with desire. 

“Am I?” 

Her palms were itching, though she couldn’t tell if it was from desire or the flea powder. It was making her edgy. 

“If I am, then so are you. Perhaps we should make the most of that.” 

He grabbed her hand and pulled her towards the shower. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Hermione demanded, confused to the brim. 

Malfoy laughed again, and she couldn’t for the life of her remember him laughing quite so often ever before. 

“This bloody flea powder is still on me. And if your twitching hands are any indication, it’s on you too, now. The only way to get rid of it, is to wash it off. So, you’re going to help me and we’ll kill two birds with one stone.”

Hermione’s eyebrows lowered into a fierce scowl. Malfoy was still tugging on her hand and edging towards the shower, smiling as if he was the proverbial cat who ate the canary. 

“If you think that…”

“What?” Malfoy’s voice sounded harsh in the silence. He halted abruptly, making Hermione plow into his chest. “This is all your fault, Granger,” he bit out as he scratched his collarbone, leaving ugly red marks on the alabaster skin. 

“My fault?” 

“Yes, your fault! You’re the one who hexed me.”

“I wouldn’t have hexed you if you weren’t such a bloody arsehole to me all the bloody time!” she exclaimed angrily.

“Maybe, if you weren’t such a bloody uptight, judgemental little witch, I wouldn’t have to keep coming up with new tricks to get a reaction out of you.” 

“You have the nerve to call me judgemental? That’s rich, coming from the likes of you, you misogynistic, chauvinistic, arrogant excrement of a pureblooded prick!

They were shouting at the top of their lungs, eyes sparkling with rage, cheeks tinted bright red with fury, chests heaving as they drew in short breaths. 

Yet, there was something about Malfoy that made Hermione frown in confusion. It only became more pronounced when he spoke up. 

“Bloody hell, you’re so fucking perfect.”

He sounded breathless and completely in awe and it was frightening. When he closed his eyes in annoyance and let out an expletive that would have made a sailor blush, his face contorting with an unpleasant emotion, Hermione couldn’t hold the question in.

“Malfoy, what is going on? “

“Fucking Nott…” he muttered, his voice trailing off. 

When he opened his eyes again, he stared at her, his grey gaze open and honest in a way she had never seen before. Her face scrunched up, the question unspoken this time. 

A single word fell from his lips. 

“Veritaserum.”

Hermione’s jaw dropped. 

“Judging by some of the things I’ve been saying, Nott must have slipped me Veritaserum. Mixed with alcohol. Not the best combo.” 

He was still scratching, drawing blood on his chest. 

Hermione was confused and angry and didn’t know what to do with herself. 

“That still doesn’t explain why you keep harassing me the way you do!” she shouted, swatting him in the chest. “Merlin, Malfoy! Why don’t you just leave me alone? And what in the bloody hell do you mean by ‘getting a reaction out of me?” 

Malfoy rolled his eyes and huffed. 

“Brightest witch of our time. Bollocks.” 

When he watched her eyes flash, he was quick to explain himself. 

“Negative attention is still attention. I tease and taunt and pester you at every turn, because you can’t help respond. It’s the only way I get you to notice me. And I _desperately_ want you to notice me.” 

His face contorted in that semblance of pure annoyance again, as if he wanted to scream. He balled his fists at his side for a few seconds, squeezing his eyes shut, counting to ten in his head. When he opened his eyes again, they were dark and intense and focused solely on her. 

Hermione stilled, her eyes all but bugging out of her sockets, both at his intense gaze and his words. Her lips parted in surprise. 

Malfoy must have seen that as his cue, because before she even knew what was happening, he cupped the back of her head and lowered his lips to hers. 

Just like that, the world tilted off its axis. 

Draco Malfoy was kissing her and it felt as if all was right with the universe. His beautiful lips pressed against hers as if they were made for each other, soft and sweet and tempting beyond anything. 

What unraveled her most, was the sound he made. 

It was a low hum of appreciation and pleasure. As if she were his favorite meal and he was starving. As if he’d been waiting for years to kiss her.

His next move only emphasized the notion. 

He brought up his second hand and cupped her cheek, angled his head and deepened the kiss, his tongue tentatively caressing the seam of her lips, asking permission. 

When she opened her mouth, he sighed with relief. A shiver ran down her spine and she gasped. She started trembling involuntarily and became lightheaded. Hermione grabbed hold of his waist to stay upright. 

Malfoy broke the kiss after what could have been several minutes or mere seconds. 

Hermione pouted at the loss of his lips without even being aware of it. She wasn’t sad for long though, for his mouth soon traveled down the side of her neck, his lips and teeth and tongue nipping and nibbling with abandon. 

Her fingers dug into his flesh and he groaned. 

“Hermione.”

Her name came out on a sigh, breathless and soft, whispered as if he was afraid to speak too loudly. His hands were in her hair, pulling out the bobby pins that held up the elegant updo. They clattered on the tile floor loudly, but neither of them noticed. 

Hermione’s hands were roaming his back and chest, unknowingly easing his itching skin. 

His fingers made quick work of her hair, and soon her tamed curls were down, brushing her shoulders. He buried them in her hair, sighing with pleasure, and Hermione shuddered in his arms as he massaged her scalp. 

“This is a bad idea,” she muttered, trying to remember how to form cohesive sentences. 

“I don’t care,” Malfoy replied, grazing his teeth along her shoulder. 

“Malfoy…” she started, but he cut her short. 

“Hermione, say my name.” 

He pulled back and stared down into her eyes with that unnerving silver gaze of his. From this short distance, she could discern every single shade of grey and blue. She became transfixed with the emotion that shone in their depths. 

His lips trembled as he cupped her face tenderly. 

“Please,” he whispered almost brokenly. “Please say my name?” 

Something inside her caved. 

“Draco.” 

The name tumbled from her lips almost tenderly, the sound of his name like music to their ears. He smiled, his eyes a little too bright. 

“Hermione.” 

Draco lowered his lips to hers again and kissed her deeply. His hands slid down to her back, kneading her skin above the bodice of her dress and cupping her bottom. He squeezed it and Hermione let out a small cry, breaking the kiss and throwing her head back. 

Never before had she felt like this. Her gaze found his and it was as wild as her own. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” she insisted, trying to be reasonable when everything inside of her screamed to give in. 

“I know.” He kissed her eyelids softly, the gesture achingly tender. “What good could come of it, right?” 

She nodded in agreement with his words, but her body responded regardless. She tilted her head and captured his lips with her own. 

“None at all.” She kissed him again. “Your reputation will be ruined.”

He gave her his trademark smirk and it made her core clench with pure need. 

“I always knew you’d be the one to ruin me.” 

“Imagine the scandal it would cause?” she countered. 

“What’s life without a little scandal to stir things up now and then?” he whispered in her ear right before he started kissing and biting it, making her keen. 

Hermione was starting to become desperate. 

She wanted to be with Malfoy, but she hated that she wanted to. He was her nemesis, her bully, a bloodpurist. Not only that, but he was probably under some sort of spell, and she was fairly certain it wasn’t the Veritaserum he claimed it to be. 

She had to find some way, some reason to discourage herself, to discourage him. When the idea hit her, she blabbed it out instantly. 

“Your father will kill you if he finds out.” 

Draco froze, his teeth still encircling her earlobe. 

He pulled back slightly and gazed into her eyes. His large hand cupped her cheek, his thumb tracing her cheekbone gently. 

“I would face Voldemort himself if you said you loved me, Hermione.” 

“That’s quite a bold claim, especially coming from you.”

“It’s the truth. I would gladly face the world head-on if only you would love me back.” 

Hermione let out a sound that resembled a choked sob. The expression on his face was so honest, so earnest it almost brought tears to her eyes.

“You don’t mean that.” 

“I do.” 

“No, you don’t. You couldn’t.”

Malfoy chuckled without mirth. 

“Yes, I do.”

“Draco, honestly, this is nothing like you. You must be under some sort of spell.” 

“The only spell I’m under is yours. Ever since you punched me in the nose in third year.” He smiled softly and tapped her nose with his forefinger. “Oh. And the Veritaserum. Which I’m sure will wear off soon.” 

Hermione’s hands were still rubbing his back subconsciously, relieving the itch on both his skin and her palms. 

“Are you sure it’s not Amortentia? Or a diluted form of it? Another love potion, perhaps?” she asked with a frown. 

“I’m certain.”

“How do you know?” 

“Because the result would be the same.” 

Hermione went completely still. 

“Is it truly so hard to believe that I could be sincere?” The question was spoken softly, a fair amount of pain injected in the simple phrase. 

“Yes!” she exclaimed, her tone exasperated. “You’ve been bullying me for years, have called me all sorts of foul names, haven’t missed a chance to put me down one way or another, and all of a sudden, you claim to care for me? Can you blame me for being skeptical?” 

“No.” He chuckled. “I’d be worried if you weren’t.” 

He stepped away from her and stared down at her face, a nondescript look on his own. The sudden rush of air between them was cold, and it made Hermione shiver. 

“I must admit - however loathsome I find doing so - that you are quite right.” 

Hermione felt everything inside her go still at his words, unexpected hurt and agony slowly creeping into her very soul as she imagined what he would say next. He surprised her though. 

“As much as I want to, I do believe it’s far too soon to take the step we were very close to taking.”

He was back to scratching his chest with vengeance. He gazed at her intently then, making her shiver for entirely different reasons. 

“Get that look off your face, Granger,” he muttered with his smirk firmly in place. “I am still very much invested in convincing you to give me a chance. To give _us_ a chance.” 

He started unbuttoning his shirt and Hermione couldn’t stop her eyes from latching on to the vision of his perfect pale skin. 

“I already said why I’ve done what I did. I admit that it was probably not the best way to go about things, but I never once thought you’d give me the time of day if I tried a different approach.” He had completely unbuttoned the shirt and removed his tie by the time he was done talking. “However, since our current actions are no longer distracting me from my rather inconvenient disposition, I want to ask you to please undo the spell? And to help me wash off the flea powder? 

“Draco.” Hermione admonished.

“I’m serious, Hermione. I have no ulterior motives. I cannot reach all of my back, and I’m fairly certain you were quite proficient in your administration of the flea powder to that jumper.” 

Hermione couldn’t contain the chuckle that rose from deep within her chest. Draco soon joined her. 

“Oh very well,” she muttered under her breath and pulled out her wand. 

She wordlessly deactivated the flea powder. 

“There,” she said as she put her wand away again. “The flea powder is deactivated. You should be able to wear your shirt and even the jumper again, as long as I don’t say a certain word.” 

She grinned at him and he shook his head fondly. 

Hermione then transformed one of her bobby pins into a washcloth. Draco produced a bar of soap and in turn handed it to Hermione. She wet it, then applied the soap and meticulously washed his back for him, making sure not to miss a single spot. 

When she was done, she handed him the washcloth, and he washed his chest while she washed her hands at the sink. 

The intimacy of the moment wasn’t lost on either of them. 

When they were done, Hermione expected the situation to become awkward soon, but Draco obviously had other plans. 

After he’d put his shirt and tie back on, he walked up to her. He put his arms around her waist and pulled her close. 

“Can I walk you back to your dorm?” 

Hermione frowned at him. 

“What about your friends?” 

“What about them?”

“Aren’t you worried they will see us?” 

He gave her another smirk.

“So? Are you worried about your friends? Is that what this is about? Please don’t tell me you still fancy the Weasel?” 

“Oh, shut it, Malfoy!” she quipped as she pushed him away. .

“Back to Malfoy, are we?” He lifted his eyebrow at her, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “It doesn’t matter if they see us or not. I’m sure word of us leaving the hallway has already been spoken about by half the school by now.”

“Oh, sweet Circe” Hermione groaned as she closed her eyes and lifted her hand to her head. 

“Relax, Granger.” 

Her eyes flew open at his words. 

“Back to Granger, are we?” Her eyes danced with the challenge. 

Draco threw back his head and laughed. 

“I could always call you my ‘love’, if you prefer?” 

Hermione’s eyes widened to the size of saucers. She was about to shout at him again when his words mollified her. 

“Relax, Granger,” he repeated. 

“I’m going to find out what kind of potion they slipped you.”

He cupped her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting it up to him. 

“I’m not under any love potion, and I do believe even the Veritaserum is starting to wear off.” He grabbed his jumper and wrapped it around his shoulder like some preppy twat. “Now, shall we? The longer we stay away, the wilder the tongues will wag.” 

Together, they left the room and walked back towards the staircases. Draco put his arm around her shoulders and Hermione couldn’t be bothered to tell him not to. 

By the time they reached the Gryffindor tower, sanity had somewhat returned to both of them.

Hermione distanced herself from him, but he wouldn’t allow her to retreat completely. Draco held on to her hand as if it were his lifeline. 

Several students from all houses were loitering about, not quite ready to go back to their dorms. Some were talking quietly, some were snogging rather intensely, but the moment Hermione walked into view while holding hands with Draco sodding Malfoy, every movement seized. 

Hermione became quite uncomfortable, but Draco didn’t seem at all fazed. 

When they reached the painting of the fat lady, all eyes were on them. Draco didn’t notice at all. He just pulled her a little closer and took hold of her second hand. 

“Thank you for a lovely time, Granger. Hex and all.” 

Hermione couldn’t contain her chuckle. 

“You too. It wasn’t quite as horrible as I had imagined spending time with you would be.”

Draco grinned ruefully. 

“Now, there’s a compliment all blokes like to hear…” His voice trailed off and he rolled his eyes, sarcasm lacing his voice, making Hermione laugh even harder. 

“Alright, fine.” She inhaled deeply and grinned at him. “I had a lovely time as well.”

“And I have the scratch marks to show for it…” He murmured as he winked at her. 

“Oh you,” she exclaimed and tried to pull her hands out of his grasp. “I’ll just as soon hex you again, you dimwitted ferret!” 

He laughed, the sound melodious and pleasant, making the bystanders frown or gasp in surprise. 

“I look forward to it.” 

He kissed her hand, like the gentleman his mother had raised. 

“Goodnight, Granger,” he whispered and kissed her hand again, his lips lingering over her knuckles, his eyes never leaving hers. 

After what felt like forever, he finally dropped her hand and started to walk away. 

“Malfoy!” 

Hermione’s voice stopped him in his tracks. He turned and looked back at her, walking up to him shyly. 

“Can I ask you just one more thing?” 

“Anything, my love,” he whispered for her ears only.

She swallowed hard, confused and thrown off kilter by the endearment. 

“What did it smell like?”

He frowned at her and Hermione realized she had to be a bit more precise. 

“The Amortentia?” she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper. “What did it smell like to you?” 

“If you must know, Granger, I’ll gladly oblige.” He grinned at her and he stepped a little closer to her. “New parchment, green apples and…” Draco stepped even closer and bent down to her ear. He drew in a deep breath and whispered hoarsely. “The smell of your shampoo.” 

Hermione pulled back in shock, staring up at him. 

Draco then made it far worse by brushing his lips against hers in a featherlight caress. 

“Goodnight Granger,” he said softly as he straightened. He started to walk away and threw her one last parting phrase, complete with his trademark smirk and an arrogant wink. 

“Dream of me.” 

Hermione stood there, looking at his retreating back and couldn’t fight the smile that crept in. She pressed two fingers against her still swollen lips and sighed contentedly. This evening had unfolded quite unusual and unexpectedly, but she was left with a sentiment that made her want to grin like a fool. 

Whispering into the drafty castle air, her words never reached him, but she hoped he heard them anyway. 

“Goodnight, Malfoy. Dream of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> My sweet reader, 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this story!  
> I had a lot of fun writing it, despite all the hurdles that were sent my way during the crazy month of December.  
> Now, as the New Year has rolled in, I managed to push aside the things that were dragging me down! 
> 
> Please feel free to reach out and leave me a comment, letting me know what you think. It may take a little while, but I promise I WILL reply to every single one!  
> I wish you all the best in this new year, and hope that only good and wholesome things may cross your path! 
> 
> Lots of love!  
> X  
> B
> 
> PS: I really am shite at the whole tagging-thing, so if anyone comes up with tags that apply to this fic, please let me know!


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